


The Rising Cost of Inflation

by thewindowsshutdownnoise



Series: Economics [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breeding, Come Inflation, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewindowsshutdownnoise/pseuds/thewindowsshutdownnoise
Summary: Alternatively titled: Local Chaotic-Neutral Amnesiac Has Serious Difficulty Staying On Task. Yes, Even That Task.The joke description I came up with while writing this was, "When it comes to Ink and Error’s love life, no one’s died, recently, but, much to Ink’s regret, nobody’s been born, either," and I ... still don't have much better for you. Frankly, this is just filthy smut fic that involves Ink having a weirdly-specific breeding kink (for Error, basically), and Ink and Error having a barter system that probably causes more trouble for the Multiverse than anything else. Also, Ink nearly comes to an emotional realization, but, don't worry, he's Ink, and he gets immediately distracted.Have fun.





	The Rising Cost of Inflation

**Author's Note:**

> The sheer number of times I thought, "Ink you tiny, tiny nutbag" or "Ink, please stop bullying Error when you've got your dick in him, man," while writing this should probably concern me more than it does. But this is Ink and Error we're talking about, so maybe that just means I've succeeded? Who knows.
> 
> The process of writing this fic basically went: 1) Read Kinktober prompt list (all the way back in October, yes) and get a vague idea about Ink developing a very Error-specific breeding kink after Paperjam's creation. 2) Promptly ignore that idea for almost five months. 3) Get a vague idea about Error and Ink instituting some weird barter system in semi-attempt at peace-keeping. 4) Have my brain go, "That's a nice fic idea you have there. You could use that in a serious fic or--and just hear me out here--you could write a smut fic based on a dumb economics joke."
> 
> And then I went into a three-day long fugue state and came out the other side with Google Docs informing me I'd written almost 4,000 words of just ... sheer filth and Ink and Error being dicks to each. You're welcome? I'm sorry? I can't believe I'm entering fandom on this one, either?
> 
> I honestly don't even know how to tag most of this but please do note the kink tags, as the breeding and come inflation kink playing a, uh, starring role. I think it's all handled pretty humorously? But it also definitely gets explicit, so. Like, fair warning, at the end somebody gets pretty ... soaked in magic, you know, sexually speaking. If you have any idea how I should tag to warn for that, please let me know. I'll be happy to add it.

Ink liked to refer to the current era in his and Error’s … relationship? Not-really partnership? Better-than-usual mutual tolerance? Eternal rivalry, now with added benefits and less outright murder?

Probably, he should stick with relationship. 

Anyway.

Ink liked to refer to the current era of his and Error’s _relationship_ as PBS, or post-barter system. In part, because it was accurate and easy to remember (Ink hadn’t had to refer to his scarf about it in … well, ironically, he can’t remember). But also, admittedly, because he knew how much it irritated Error to hear Ink refer to it, that way. The first time, Ink had earned himself 15 minutes hanging, upside-down, from the ceiling of the anti-Void, slowly twisting in the air as Error shouted at him, from down below. Each subsequent time had involved more creativity, on Error’s part, when it came to making Ink regret his word choice. Just … not enough to actually make Ink stop.

That first time did earn a note on Ink’s scarf. Probably not the note Ink _should_ have written, something along the lines of _don’t use The Abbreviation around Error.’_ No, the note he _actually_ wrote instead read: _Error does not like being called ‘adorably pissy.’_

The way Ink used that information, in the future, could probably be classified as both good _and_ evil. Not that he spent too much time worrying about it.

Their whole present state of affairs, including the barter system, and … so much else, really, could be traced back to Paperjam’s creation. Or more accurately, a little after Paperjam’s creation, once Ink had realized what had happened, looked up at Error, and thought, 'Half of this child's magic came from Error. He helped create ... ' And while creation had been far from Error's intention, at the time, it sowed a seed in Ink's mind that quickly blossomed into a full-blown obsession. The sort of obsession that required years of further pursuit (decades, by now, really), including the institution of a complicated and often dangerous exchange system, with an ever-changing set of rules governing what item or favor or act could be traded, between the two of them, for what else. 

By the time that sexual acts had made their way onto the list of the possibly-barterable, that exact system had a partial hand in the destruction of at least three alternate universes (which was mostly an accident), Nightmare having to rebuild a stronghold, twice, (... less accidental), and a solid six-month period during which Dream claimed to have a migraine whenever he was in Ink’s presence (unnecessarily dramatic, really, Ink did apologize). 

Ink reached out to stroke his fingertips over Error's swollen belly, spidering gentle touches down his summoned ecto-thighs before shifting his hand back up to press two fingers inside of Error, where he was already wet and open, practically dripping with their combined magic, just _waiting_ for Ink ...

… Not quite patiently, given the way he was currently gnawing on his own scarf, where Ink had pressed it between his teeth, his glitched form practically vibrating within the confines of Ink’s scarf, which was wrapped twice around his body, the long ends looped around his crossed arms, pinning them tightly to his chest. He was currently glaring at Ink (a look that could be accurately described as ‘adorably pissy,’ Ink would just like to note), but since he wasn’t dangling Ink from the ceiling of the anti-Void and hadn’t taken the opportunity to strangle him with either scarf, the moment Ink had suggested this … well. That was practically a declaration in and of itself, coming from Error. 

Setting his free hand back on the other monster’s distended belly, Ink pressed down slightly, watching as his own magic, shining from within, distorted the color of Error’s thinly spread ecto-body wherever he was touched. Grinning, delighted, Ink shifted his other hand so that he could grind his thumb down against Error's clit as he scissored his fingers inside him. Error choked out a series of sobs that Ink immediately vowed to wring out of him several more times before they were through. Already, Error looked half-crazed with the need to come. So, grinning, Ink took his hands away, entirely, leaning back and watching as half-crazed rapidly became fully-crazed, Error writhing as much as the position that Ink had put him in would allow.

Ink laughed a little. "Guess you're ready again, huh?"

Error went still, glaring at Ink as he panted around the gag, his face flushed a fetching shade of yellow that Ink immediately ran his fingers over as if in doing so he'd be able to smear it or gather it up to use on another canvas. But Ink couldn't think of a place he'd rather see that color than right here, spreading further across Error's cheeks as Ink lifted his legs enough to move fully in between them. Reaching down with one hand, Ink briefly opened Error up with his fingers and watched magic leak out of him.

“Looks like you can take more.” Ink looked up at Error, smiling brightly. “What do you think, Error?”

Error simply trembled as Ink’s fingers slipped from him, once more, closing his eye sockets and swallowing several times against nothing. Silence hung between them, for a minute, until Ink reached up and gently tapped on Error’s cheek, a few times, just hard enough to get his attention. Multicolored, mismatched eye lights swam back into being as Error opened his sockets, slowly focusing in on Ink, who was stroking one end of the scarf stuffed into his mouth. As soon as he had Error’s full attention, Ink smeared his fingers through the magic gathered on Error’s chin where he was drooling around the gag.

“Can you take more?” he asked, again. 

Error closed his sockets, just briefly, as he inhaled and then opened them to lock gazes with Ink. After a moment, he gave a slow nod of concession. Ink grinned and moved closer.

“Good,” he said, scooping one of Error's legs up higher and repositioning it over his shoulder so he could lean in and slide his cock in between Error’s wet folds, delighting in the sounds Error made every time the head of his cock caught against his entrance, how they became increasingly frantic and higher pitched the longer he went on. And while one of Ink's major aims was to drive Error completely and totally mindless with lust, with each touch and every denial of what Error really wanted (whether he'd admit to it or not), the sight and sound of him, desperate for every bit of pleasure Ink allowed him, was intoxicating enough for Ink to skip further teasing (for now, at least) and give them both what they wanted.

Pushing into him was easy, Error and Ink's combined magic slicking the way as he buried himself deep in Error's willing body, the sounds of their joining near sloppy, now, as Ink listened to the punched-out sound Error made when Ink bottomed out in him. Watching him shake his head slightly as if already denying that he'd made that particular sound. Which just made Ink laugh, slightly, and grin to himself (well, and right down at Error, who's weakly attempting to glare back at him), internally vowing to wring that same sound out of Error, again and again and again, until any attempts at denial became totally pointless. 

Ink took pride in a number of his abilities, most tied back to the potentials of creation and his greater role within the multiverse. But recent discoveries he’d made about Error (with Error?) were equally heady and intoxicating, in their own way. He could remember (with almost shocking clarity, considering he was … himself and couldn’t recall a single thing he’d done, just that morning) the first time he’d had Error like this, pinned on his back as Ink pushed into him, how watching the color spread across Error’s face had made Ink feel like he’d accidentally and unknowingly downed his entire supply of yellow. 

Unfortunately, that ended up being the first (but certainly not last) time he puked ink on Error while they were both naked. Error just took the opportunity to kick Ink directly in the teeth, screeching in outrage, the whole time, since his hands were … otherwise occupied, and he couldn’t summon his strings. 

“Interest,” Error had blurted out, the next time Ink encountered him, what felt like an entire century after the naked-ink-puking incident but was, in reality, only a couple of weeks. Ink was immediately distracted, anyway, by the fact that Error was actually talking to him, again, grinning at the way Error was flushing a little, even now, as he regarded Ink, narrowly. “You’re getting … weird. Weird shit’s always worth more.”

The near-hysterical fits of laughter that inspired in Ink kept him from ever actually making the joke he’d thought of (something along the lines of was Error asking to include inflation in their little arrangement), but since he still ended up webbed to the wall by blue thread, he had a feeling Error understood, anyway. 

Ink watched Error's eye lights roll back into his skull, his thighs trembling where Ink gripped them, keeping them spread open wide as he watched his cock disappear, again and again, into Error's heated magic. The noise’s Error made were a strange, obscene mix of groaning and static-y glitching, with the occasional startled beep mixed in, just to let Ink know when he was hitting the right spots. 

“Stars,” Ink choked out, then gave a slightly strangled laugh, his hands gripping tighter onto Error's plush ectobody. “Just look at you.” At that, Error's bright yellow flush only intensified and deepened, as his eyes narrowed, and Ink reached up, once more, to run his fingers over it. “Look at you. All spread out just. Just for me.” 

His smile wavered a moment, as some foreign feeling moved through him, a swirling and tangled mass of borrowed emotions. He could pick out some of the brighter and darker tones among all the intermingling colors, the feelings that were simpler or more familiar. Trying to take them as a whole, though, just led to Ink feeling queasy with the need to laugh _and_ cry _and_ run laps around the room, screaming at the top of his lungs ( _and_ fuck Error until he couldn’t walk, but that was a familiar feeling, these days). As far as Ink’s emotional experiences went, it felt a little like how mixing together every color on Ink’s bandolier _actually_ went--not resulting, as Ink had originally expected, in a beautiful rainbow of emotions but a murky and unappetizing mess that, when drunk, tasted just as awful as it then felt. Swallowing hard against rising nausea, Ink tried to will the feelings away, hoping they’d return to him at a more … convenient time, one where he could actually gather them up, pick them apart, unwind and untangle each emotional thread until he actually knew what he was dealing with.

A time, preferably, that wouldn’t just result in Error refusing to let Ink anywhere near him for weeks or months (or Maker’s knew how long, really, this time) just because he’d puked ink on him, again.

“Nnnghk,” Ink said, suddenly, body bowing forward. His eye sockets clenched shut, a moment, before opening, again, eye lights cycling rapidly as he blinked, before refocusing on Error (and when, exactly, had he become so damnably unfocused), who was now glaring hard at Ink. 

Ink, who’d become so distracted by that mass of unidentifiable emotions, he’d completely forgotten about having his dick literally _inside_ Error.

Of course, as soon as he realized this, Ink broke down giggling, and Error’s expression immediately switched over to homicidal, as his body began to glitch more intensely, a sort of buzzing, static-y sound overtaking the air.

“Sorry,” Ink gasped out, still giggling and trying to swallow against it, mostly failing to either calm himself down or stop his laughter. At least, by now, he was used to seeing looks on Error’s face like he was contemplating killing Ink in his sleep, the next time Ink was actually foolish enough to fall asleep where Error might find him. However, he _also_ looked like he was seriously considering no longer playing along, tearing Ink’s scarf to ribbons, and then strangling Ink with his own two hands. Which, well, Ink didn’t want _that._

“Sorry,” Ink said, again, managing to tamp down on his amusement enough to calm his breathing and silence his laughter (minus the occasional giggle bubbling up out of him, without any real input, on his part). “Sorry, just.” He shrugged. “Thinking. I’ll just … uhh--” He blinked down at Error as the other monster began violently shaking his head, side to side. “Error, what are you--” He realized Error was trying to literally shake the gag loose around the time he started growling, too. When that clearly wasn’t working, Error … didn’t change tactics even a little bit, continuing on as if he planned to _stubborn_ the gag out of place.

Ink rolled his eyes, a little, and, knowing full well Error might make him regret it, pulled the scarf out of his mouth. Error took a couple of deep, gasping breaths that seemed a little overdramatic, considering neither of them actually needed to breathe. Then he looked up at Ink, sneering slightly, and said, “Don’t hurt yourself. I know you’re not used to thinking too hard.”

“Really?” Ink said, not so much surprised at the dig (or Error’s need to get a word in edgewise) but that, if he were going to fight the gag that hard, he hadn’t come up with something better, while doing it. 

“Yes,” Error said, “And I know--nnngh, _Ink_.” 

Ink looked up, grinning slightly, from where he was grinding a knuckle, hard, into Error’s clit. “Hmm? Go on.” 

Error began making stuttering, half-glitched sounds, progressing to the rapid-fire, high-pitched noises that usually preceded a crash--Ink relented only when Error nearly clipped one hand through the floor because, as he’d learned the hard way, being inside Error when he crashed was an … _interesting_ experience, but not one he really wanted to repeat. Ink withdrew his hand, lapping at the fluid now dripping from his finger as he watched Error recover himself. 

Eventually, Error looked back up at him, eye lights hazy and unfocused as they followed the motions of Ink’s tongue, the bright, colorful magic working over pale fingerbones. Ink paused a moment, head cocked slightly to one side as he watched Error panting, his chest rising and falling--even that slightly constrained by the way Ink’s scarf was wrapped around him, ribs compressed and each breath just that little bit harder to take. Like Ink was leaving an impression on him. Like he was holding him down. Holding him together. Making him--

Ink blinked, eye lights cycling rapidly, then looked at Error, who was still spread out in front of him, regarding him narrowly through golden eyes, his face flushed and legs wrapped tightly around Ink’s waist. He trembled, slightly, small, abortive motions that radiated out from where Ink was still buried deep inside of him. Ink nearly allowed himself to feel smug about that. Before he could invite that particular emotion forward, though, he noticed his own shaking, his body apparently feeling the strain of holding back, even as the rest of him maintained an impressive if momentary obliviousness.

“Whoops,” Ink said, reaching down, suddenly, to grip Error’s thick thighs in his hands, again.

“Whoops,” Error repeated, voice deeper, darker, and packed with an impressive amount of disbelief. “ _Whoops_.” Ink could practically _see_ how Error wanted to work himself up into a state, could hear it in the increasing frequency of his vocal glitches, and if he let Error do that, they’d never get around to-- “Are you _absolutely_ serious? Does that--” Error squirmed against his bonds, wrists and arms twisting within the looped coils of the scarf, and Ink’s whole being responded with a _’No, stop,’_ the strength and intensity of which surprised even him. “Does that goldfish brain of yours even hold anything other than--”

Ink thrust into Error hard enough that only his tight grip on Error's thighs prevented him from going skidding up the floor. 

”Holy fucking … _Ink_.” The noises Error made, then, contained a contradictory and heady mix of outrage and desperation--he writhed in place like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to press closer to Ink or escape him, entirely. Ink just grinned down at him, placed one hand against Error's sternum, and leaned forward to pin him more effectively in place. 

“Just Ink is fine,” he said. “Wouldn’t want me to get a big … _head_ about things, after all.”

Error took several gasping breaths and groaned out an, “I-I-Ink,” that still managed to contain a note of warning in it.

“After all, then I might not fit in--”

“ _Ink,_ ” Error snapped out, knocking his own skull off the ground hard enough that Ink might be worried about its integrity if Error weren’t so naturally hard-headed.

_Heh_ , he thought to himself, giggling a little. _Hard-headed._

Error just groaned, again. “You lunatic. You’re fucking _impossible_.”

Ink gave a hard thrust, grinning. “Good to see you’re becoming self-aware. Only took, what? Several centuries” 

Error made a furious, choked-off sound that melted out into a moan as Ink increased the rhythm of his movements, thrusting harder and faster, pushing in deeper, and watching as Error’s face went slack, a near-blissful look overtaking him--momentarily, anyway. Makers knew Error couldn’t let himself go on feeling that good for long before he started fighting it, his face twisting up a little as he tensed, then relaxed, and then tensed again, the pattern continuously repeating. 

And he called _Ink_ impossible. Sighing, Ink leaned forward, still pushing into him as he watched Error relax and tense, relax and tense. He frowned, slightly, and said. “Stop that.”

“ _No_ ,” Error snapped out--then, seeming to have actually registered what Ink said, added, “Stop _what?_ ” 

Ink pushed forward, again--his frown deepened when Error just tensed, further. “ _That_. Stop doing that.”

“ _No_ ,” Error snapped, a second time, his voice glitching a little harder.

Ink stilled, just considering Error, for a moment, his eye lights seemingly stuck on a question mark and triangle. Then they began to shift, again, quick changes between an exclamation point and a star, a circle and a rhombus, a quadrangle and a crescent moon, as Ink grinned and reached out to Error, who mostly looked alarmed.

Ink flicked him right on the forehead. Error let out an outraged-sounding series of beeps.

“What?” he finally managed to ask when Ink, still grinning, flicked him again.

Ink just shrugged. “If you’re going to keep doing that, I guess I might as well give you a reason.” Another flick. Another series of angry beeps. 

By the fifth flick, Error was yellow-faced for an entirely different reason.

“What the fuck, Ink,” he hissed at him. He snapped at Ink’s hand with his teeth, when he went to flick him a sixth time, since his own arms were still pinned to his chest. Ink easily pulled his hand free, in time, still grinning. The grin fell straight off his skull, though, when Error clenched down vengefully on his cock, making Ink groan and fall forward, again.

His distraction became far worse when one of his hands landed on Error’s ecto-thigh, only to feel how wet it was, soaked from where their combined magic had leaked out around Ink’s cock, when Error clenched down. Ink tipped himself back far enough to look down at Error, again, who was glaring back at him, his chest heaving. He looked from Error’s face (angry and yellow, so … not much change from normal), down to his glistening ecto-thighs (definitely more distracting than usual), and back, again. Then he picked up his hand and considered the sticky magic coating his fingers. 

“Gross,” Error said, flatly. If he had a nose, Ink was pretty sure he’d be wrinkling it up, right now.

Ink popped two fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping at their mixed magic. Instantly, his eye lights took the shape of pulsing, pink souls, and the noises he made took a turn towards blissed-out and self-satisfied. Error just stared back, as Ink looked down at him. 

“You’re disgusting,” Error finally whispered, voice unusually unsteady, considering it wasn’t glitches fracturing his speech, this time. Magnanimously, Ink decided not to mention that. Instead, he just made a vague noise of agreement, sounding particularly un-bothered as he pulled his fingers free. He glanced down between Error’s legs, again, doing a bit of mental math: Error hadn’t torn his scarf to pieces, yet, which meant, even if he tried, now, Ink would still have _some_ time to make his move, so … Ink shrugged, to himself, and pulled out of Error, who made a series of predictably outraged noises. 

Before he could truly react, though, Ink was back between his legs, though this time it was his skull buried between Error’s parted thighs, his tongue pushing into Error’s summoned ecto-body. He groaned at the taste, at Error’s heat and their combined magic, his tongue and jaw working, his nasal bridge grinding against Error’s clit, bringing Error’s back arching up off the floor as glitching, stuttering moans echoed out around them. 

“Ink,” Error started to chant. “Ink, Ink, Ink.” He trembled, body rocking against the ground, repeating the name until Ink almost began worrying about the glitches getting him stuck in a cycle, again. But then he really started thrashing. A second later, his eye sockets snapped back open (Ink wondered, somewhat dazedly, when he’d missed them closing), and he tore his way out of Ink’s scarf, instantly reaching towards him. Ink had only a moment to worry that Error might actually throttle him, for earlier--eye lights briefly registering an exclamation point and question mark--before he felt Error grip onto his shoulders, then the back of his skull, pressing Ink further into him as his back bowed, once more, and he picked up his chant.

“Ink,” he moaned. “Ink, _Ink_.”

On the last _Ink_ , his back came up so far off the ground that only his shoulder blades remained pressed down against it, his body wracked and shuddering as he came, soaking his own thighs and the floor and, mainly, Ink, a mix of his fluids and the magic Ink had been feeding into him for … most of the afternoon, at this point.

Ink pulled back, as soon as Error’s hands went slack, coughing and wiping at his own face. Once he’d managed to clear his eye sockets, he blinked down at Error, who looked relaxed enough, at the moment, to melt into the ground. 

“Wow,” Ink said--then, just to thoroughly ruin the moment, added. “I think that’s the closest I’ve come to drowning, recently. Including that thing in Horrortale.”

“We’re not talking about the Horrortale thing,” Error said, automatically, only for what Ink actually said to, seemingly, catch up with him. He groaned. “Why are you ... _you?_ ”

Ink shrugged. “Don’t know. But if you figure that out, I think some other people want to know, too.” Beneath him, Error looked significantly … deflated from his previous state. Ink was also pretty sure they’d managed to stain some things. Possibly including himself. He frowned, placing one hand on Error’s belly, which gave, softly, beneath his fingers, hardly showing any discoloration from Ink’s own magic. Probably because most had spilled onto the floor.

And Error.

… And Ink.

Ink hummed, soft and meditative, fingers stroking gently over Error’s ecto-flesh, before giving him a sharp grin, one that had Error narrowing his eye sockets at him. He still looked loose and relaxed enough, though, that the effect he achieved was only _sort of_ murderously paranoid.

Probably still fair, Ink thought.

“So,” he said. “Looks like we’re going to have to start over.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to be laughing at the phrase 'beautiful rainbow of emotions' for the rest of my natural life.
> 
> If you want to find me elsewhere, online, I semi-exist on Tumblr, right now, where I also go by thewindowsshutdownnoise. I kind of vanished from the face of the internet around the time Tumblr's great NSFW purge happened and came back to find that Tumblr tried to set itself on fire, again. So while I do have that blog, I'm also trying to figure out where the fuck else I should go, right now, as far as social media and fandom are concerned.
> 
> Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go hide out in a hole in the desert and try to forget I posted this. Don't worry, I basically live on the outskirts of Las Vegas, so hiding in holes in the desert's actually pretty convenient, for me.


End file.
